When Love is a Gun
by TheSacramentIsYou
Summary: It happened at school. The one place I was the most out of my element and it happened there. It was a rush of adrenaline, the need too high. I couldn't control it. Warnings: Implied Weecest, Noncon, Violence


**A/N: Hey guys, it's been quite a while. I haven't given up on 'An ache I still Remember' at all. I recently lost someone very close to me and it's had me in a rut for some time. Regardless, I am back with this oneshot and I am working on chapter four. Anyway, I hope you like this small ficlet. **

**Warnings: Implied weecest (Sam is fourteen, Dean is eighteen), noncon, violence.**

He was everything, absolute perfection in its finest form. Sam Winchester couldn't be matched. He was fourteen and already gorgeous, all tanned skin and demure nose. Sam was the first thing I thought about when I woke and the last thing I thought about before bed. In short, I needed him. It was past want, the word too cheap, too superficial to convey how I actually felt about him.

Every time we talked his eyes would light up, something akin to admiration shining as he spoke and each time it amazed me that someone so smart and so perfect could look at someone like me and admire them. I was nothing special, not like him. He was bright and enigmatic, he hated moving around so much and I could tell.

Sam did well here; he had no qualms about engaging people in conversations as long as they approached him first. Even though he felt estranged, out of place he hid it well.

He trusted me and nothing felt better. Technically I was an adult, eighteen and as far as I knew fully grown it was wrong in more ways than one for me to look on at the high school freshman the way that I did. Sam was different though, it was hard not to like him.

It was easier to talk to him outside of school. School was full of assholes trying to get into prude's pants and we had no classes together. Still, it didn't stop me and at the rate I was going, I was sure nothing could.

On Monday he was sitting in the library, where I found him more often than not. For once he wasn't buried in homework; instead he was curled up in a chair, legs pulled up and nose buried in 'A Farewell to Arms.' Hemingway. I didn't know shit about literature but if it was good enough to keep Sam's attention it couldn't be all bad.

He gave me a small half smile as I sat down beside him, not quite fitting into the chair like him. He was nowhere near done growing and so his small, lithe frame could fit easily anyway he chose. We sat like that for an hour, him reading, me pretending to look through a magazine but really studying his face and admiring the way his hair framed it. The epitome of perfection.

By the time Thursday rolled around I was practically insane with my need for Sam. I had tried to drop hints about how I felt all week, nothing too dramatic or big in case he didn't feel the same way but it was clear that my feelings weren't shared.

It happened at school. The one place I was the most out of my element and it happened there. It was a rush of adrenaline, the need too high. I couldn't control it.

Sam was in the library, I could see him through the large glass panes looking in from the hall. This time he was doing his homework, pen working fast over notebook pages as eyes flicked back and forth through a text book.

I waited, not trusting myself to join him in the solitude. I watched instead, back hugging the wall and neck craned to keep an eye on him all the while. School had long since let out and most of the teachers had either left or were confined to their rooms, grading papers or doing whatever it was teachers did outside of school hours.

It was getting dark out, winter was fast approaching and the days were getting shorter. It seemed like forever until my Sam was gathering his things together and making his way out into the hallway. Beautiful green eyes lit up the moment he saw me and I made sure to project the ultimate picture of nonchalance.

He let me sling an arm around his shoulder and guide him, he talked about a project he was working on and I watched his lips move.

It wasn't until I got him into an empty classroom that his expression faltered, a b row quirk and a head tilt. I took his face in my hands and finally our lips met. It was incredible, he was soft, not like a girl but so perfectly _Sam_ that it drove me up the wall. I tried as hard as I could to convey my love through the kiss but within moments he was pushing me away. A string of apologies and a few steps away from me were all he offered.

That should have been it right there but it wasn't.

I needed Sam and he just didn't understand. He didn't feel the same way and it wasn't right. I could make him see, show him how good we could be. How we were meant for each other.

Sam was perceptive, he was also capable of taking me down I was sure. Even though I had a good foot on him and much more muscle, the kid knew what he was doing. He was blinded though, the trust he seemed to have in me made him weak.

It made it easier to get him on the ground.

The shock in his eyes almost made me get up and walk away, it wasn't right but a voice in the back of my head reminded me that this would be all I had. All I got of Sam Winchester and I had to make it good, had to make it perfect for the both of us.

He was beautiful beneath me and easier to pin than I had thought. I was aching already, dying to show him what I could be to him. How I could love him more than anyone else. I would be his everything.

It wasn't until I had pulled my leaking cock from my jeans that he started to beg, words and promises not to tell, not to do anything if I just stopped. I watched those lips that haunted me and I held his head still, painting his pretty mouth with precum.

He wasn't expecting it and as I drew back, he began shaking. Trying everything to get out from underneath of me, I sat back on my haunches and pinned him tighter. I watched as he spewed every hateful word at me. I saw right past it, it wasn't disgust or anger he was feeling. It was fear, pure unadulterated fear.

It was too late to stop, far too late and when I wrestled him onto his stomach the hateful slurs dissolved into pleas once more. He begged me not to, he begged me to please, God just let him go. But I didn't. I fingered him open, my spit not slick enough to make it easy on him. And then I took him, I fucked him, I made love to Sam Winchester and he cried like a child abandoned.

His body was heaven, my heaven. It was made just for me.

When I finally pulled out of him his tears ceased, he was too proud to break down in front of me now that the immediate pain and shock of what was happening was over.

I had expected him to lie there, wait for me to leave before he pulled himself together.

Sam rose instead, eyelashes wet with shed tears and hands balled into fists. He clocked me as hard as he could and pulled his pants up, his eyes conveying the surprise at what I could only imagine as the foreign and horrible pain between his legs where I took him. It had gone away as quickly as it had come and he was gone, moving swiftly.

The one thing I didn't anticipate was the one thing I should have been most worried about.

Dean Winchester.

I hadn't expected Sam to tell but I should have known better.

Sam's brother was the school badass, only there for a month and a half and already had the worst (and best in some respects) reputation out of the entire school. He was everything Sam wasn't. Reckless and dirty.

_Dangerous_.

The first hit I wasn't expecting, nor the second or the third. The knee to the kidneys came as a surprise as well and it wasn't until I was laid out on the floor that I even registered what was happening. Dean was going to kill me, there could be nothing else that could come from this.

It was Friday and he had sought me out on his own. I was dead. I tried to block my face but every hit was timed perfectly, each more accurate than the next. He was screaming, hatred like nothing I had ever heard laced through every single word.

This wasn't just a brother I had wronged.

This was deeper.

I had scorned a lover.

The pain was too much, too explosive and wrong. Dean was helpless to deal with the knowledge that I had touched Sam. My wrist was twisted grotesquely and as his fist connected with my jaw once more I heard a sickening pop, it was now hanging to the side painfully.

As soon as it had started it was over and I felt him grab my face and tilt it so I could see into the vibrant green eyes. Tears pooled but never fell as he cursed me under his breath, his rage not even close to subsiding. It took me longer than it should have to notice the knife at my throat.

My jaw was agony and my breathing was wrong, I was sure he broke at least one rib but I could focus on nothing but the knife and the storm raging in those eyes, so similar yet so unlike my Sam's. He pressed in just enough so I could feel blood rise to the surface in small pinpricks. I begged him then, like Sam had begged me just yesterday but like Sam my pleas were ignored.

"I should fucking kill you," his voice wavered and his body shook, "I should but… but that wouldn't help Sammy. You need to live with this, you son of a bitch and remember what you did to him." His hand moved, knife pressing just off the corner of my eye, "you need a reminder so every time you look in the mirror you remember what you did Sam, what you did to a fucking kid." He pressed down then and every other pain, my wrist, my ribs, my jaw faded into a dull buzz because he was cutting through my face, his knife splitting the flesh as he dragged it down to the corner of my mouth. "You look in the mirror and when you see this you remember what you did, you remember my face and you know that if I ever see you again, whether it's a month from now or twenty years I will kill you. You will never see Sam again. Never."

Dean left me with a broken wrist, three fractured ribs, a dislocated jaw, and a scar that made me avoid my own gaze every time I saw my reflection. He was right, I never saw Sam Winchester again and I knew that if he ever saw me again I wouldn't make it out alive. He wanted me dead but more than anything he wanted me to suffer every day like I had made his brother.


End file.
